But Fear Itself
by RYoung
Summary: The living dead attack a small village. Will the people continue to be the living?


But Fear Itself  
  
"You have nothing to fear but fear itself", Franz thought about the preachers words. Over the past few days all the people of Lingenburg have been told not to fear the enemy, whoever they were, for fear was there greatest weapon.  
  
A few days earlier a wounded man stumbled from the nearby woods, gibbering that a horde of terror was heading in our direction. Only today had work been started on the village's defences, "Damn that fat fool", Franz cursed the mayor.  
  
"The enemy could be mere hours away, and only now does he order construction".  
  
As if reading his thoughts, old Markus started muttering,  
  
"We had all the warning signs, reports of men disappearing from other villages, graves dug up looking for weapons no doubt and Oran's hunting party still haven't come back."  
  
"How long have they been away?" Franz asked  
  
"They left just before that madman appeared"  
  
"Do you know anything about him?"  
  
"Only that he keeps talking of corpses coming for him, the mayor doesn't want anyone hearing his words, he fears the people will panic."  
  
A few hours later  
  
Franz was at home with his wife Anja when the alarm was sounded.  
  
"Stay here and don't let anyone enter but me"  
  
Anja smiled as Franz left the room, then rose from her chair and walked to the window.  
  
"These pitiful mortals will never stop my minions, soon they will join them and I'll be rid of him"  
  
".Fear is the greatest weapon of all, overcome it and Sigmar will smile on you, and grant you a great victory!"  
  
Josef, the town's old preacher, was trying give the men courage, but his words were lost over the noise of men preparing to defend their home. Everything suddenly went quiet; an unnatural felling was in the air. Franz took his position on the wall. He checked his sword and longbow. He waited staring into the forest.  
  
"Now my minions attack"  
  
The first to emerge from the trees was a pack of black furred wolves. Their coats were thin and matted, and Franz could have sworn he'd seen flashes of white bone under the matted fur.  
  
Next was the sound of metal clanking on metal. The nature of the enemy was revealed soon after. The skeletons marched out the forest, their discipline mocking the living armies of man. Their bones were coved in fresh soil. Their weapons and armour rusted and damaged. A glowing green light in their empty eyes. Great warriors of the past here to destroy the living.  
  
A horde of shambling corpses followed the skeletons. The zombies were truly vile, they stumbled forward driven by a will greater than any mortal mans.  
  
Swarms of bats flew over groups of ragged humans.  
  
Last to emerge were the knights. Warriors now only twisted shadows of the noble lords they once were. Among the knights was a man, a man dressed in flowing black robes and carrying a black, skull topped staff. A dark wizard, the leader who had summoned this army from beyond the grave, a necromancer, the most abhorred spell caster that exists.  
  
The army of undeath lined up just out of bowshot. Franz looked around. Men were shaking with fear, whispering prayers to Sigmar; the mayor was nowhere to be seen. The only man standing tall was Josef; his iron gaze fixed on the necromancer, in his hand was the holy warhammer of his shrine. Compared to the undead horde, the towns' defences looked pitifully weak.  
  
Of all the men in the town, only 50 were fit to fight, of them only a handful had any battle experience. The unknown With Hunter, who had arrived that very morning, loaded his ornate pistols. He whispered his own prayers for the trapped souls he would soon set free. All of the townsmen were armed with bows some had old swords, family heirlooms that had never seen battle. A few of the men had antique muskets, but they were probably more dangerous to the user than the target.  
  
"Destroy them, end their pointless lives"  
  
The undead moved forward, only the skeletons keeping order. The knights did not move. Franz pulled back on the bowstring, aiming at one of the rapidly approaching wolves. He released the arrow; it flew straight into the beast's eye. Franz had no time to celebrate, as quickly as the wolf fell and turned to dust another had taken its place.  
  
The Witch Hunter unleashed a hail of bullets into the pack of ghouls, many of the twisted humans fell as the others turned and fled. The muskets fired, pouring a hail of bullets into the zombies. The ones in front fell but the others trampled over them unhindered. As the zombies came closer, Franz suddenly felt sick; within the rotting horde were many faces he knew. Michael, the miller of nearby Hergig, lurched forward the gash across his throat weeping blood. Oran's face appeared among the zombies. He looked as if he had never died; only the faint glow in his eyes reviled his undeath. Musket fire beside him brought Franz back to his senses.  
  
The swarm of bats had dived onto the men waiting behind the gate. The men were unable to strike the bats; they soon broke and ran leaving the dieing behind them. In mere seconds the skeletons were at the gate hacking at it with rusted iron. One of the townsmen, Franz couldn't see who, fired his musket at the warriors of death. The old weapon exploded in his hands, killing him and wounding those around him. Franz turned his attention to the necromancer.  
  
A dark purple light was collecting round his staff. A tendril of dark magic snaked its way toward the village. The spectral serpent coiled round a group of men among them was preacher Josef. The blessings on the ancient warhammer saved the preacher, but could not protect the others. Their flesh fell their bones before the remains collapsed. To the horror of those around them, their skeletal forms rose up and turned against their former comrades. As quickly as the former townsmen rose up, Josef struck them down. Holy weapon breaking the dark magic with each swing. A body Broken. A head severed. A blade through Josef's back.  
  
The body of the preacher fell from the wall. As if the death of the preacher was the signal, the knights charged. The rest of the horde cleared a way for them as they made from the gate. They were in front of the gate; the steeds reared up and slammed the gate with their iron-shod hooves. The wood splintered, and then cracked open.  
  
"Victory"  
  
The horsemen charged in, butchering all in their path.  
  
"Anja!"  
  
Franz jumped from his position. He lashed out at anything that came close. He battled his way to his house. In front of him was the necromancer and the Witch Hunter locked a duel. Franz charged, trying to distract the sorcerer while the Witch Hunter made the killing blow, hoping the death of the sorcerer would end the spells animating the dead. Franz lashed out with his sword, cutting the surprised sorcerer across the arm. The necromancer only had time to turn round before the polished steel of the holy blade pierced his heart. The corpse slumped and fell. Franz looked round; the unliving horde looked larger than before.  
  
"No, how can this be. What's holding them together?"  
  
"There must be something else holding them together, another cursed sorcerer", The Holy Warrior answered his question.  
  
"The Mayor, it must be him, he did nothing to protect us and now he has left us"  
  
"Perhaps", with that The Hunter turned and joined the battle. Franz moved off again, attacking anything unnatural with his sword and hunting knife. Franz continued his way to his home. He could only think of protecting Anja with his life.  
  
"That's it, destroy them all. Victory is mine. How did he survive?"  
  
Franz opened the door to Anjas room. She was standing tall, looking out the window. "Anja"  
  
"I am surprised that you are still here."  
  
"W-what?"  
  
"Still there is time to change that"  
  
She turned round. Her pale skin was like ivory. Her lips were blood red. Her eyes dark and full of anger.  
  
"You caused this?"  
  
"Yes, who would suspect an innocent peasant girl would be an immortal queen of the dead?"  
  
"NO, this cant be"  
  
"Oh but it is"  
  
Franz could not look away from those eyes, those pits of darkness drawing him in. The woman that was Anja walked lightly towards him, her smile revealing the fangs, the mark of a vampire.  
  
The small town of Carroburg was being made ready to defend an unnatural enemy. A gathering of the living dead had been sighted in the nearby woods.  
  
Luke Anstein, elected leader of the towns defence force, stood up and walked to the door. He paused. He turned to look at his new wife, who was quietly following him.  
  
"Stay here my Anja, you'll be safe from our enemy"  
  
Luke left the room to lead the defence.  
  
"Now attack, destroy them all" 


End file.
